


And We’re Trying, and We’re Breathing

by unknowableroom_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-08-22
Updated: 2007-08-22
Packaged: 2019-01-19 22:57:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12420012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unknowableroom_archivist/pseuds/unknowableroom_archivist
Summary: It’s one of the things she can count on, the way she can always count on the squeaky creak of the third step in the Burrow’s staircase that no one’s ever bothered to fix.





	And We’re Trying, and We’re Breathing

**Author's Note:**

> Note from ChristyCorr, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Unknowable Room](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Unknowable_Room), a Harry Potter archive active from 2005-2016. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after May 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Unknowable Room collection profile](http://www.archiveofourown.org/collections/unknowableroom).

Disclaimer: I own more than thirty pairs of shoes, but not Harry Potter.

**and we’re trying, and we’re breathing**

Quietly, she leaves the living room in favor of the backyard, somehow knowing that he will follow. She breathes deeply; sticky-hot summer air fills her, almost clogs her, and she is astounded that nature still exists, untouched and always more powerful, forever changing but in a constant, predictable sort of way.

A hand slips into hers, and instantly, nature seems to matter a little less. Everything seems to matter a little less when he’s there, really.

“So,” he says conversationally, even though his palm is sweaty (though it may be the humidity, she isn’t sure).

“You know, Harry, I don’t really know how to have a relationship with you without agonizing over the looming expectancy of your impending death,” she says, the words tumbling out of her mouth like the raining bullets of this morning’s storm, unstoppable and inevitable and even necessary for proper growth.

“Well.” His grip on her hand loosens, and she thinks it might be too soon for jokes, even though she isn’t joking, not at all. However, then it tightens again, and she floods with relief (or something like it, anyway). “I expect it’ll be a little less chaotic. Calm, even, perhaps.”

She smiles carefully, her face fixed on the wet-speckled grass below them. There is always calm somewhere near the storm. Before, sometimes after. Disaster is best served with a heaping side of tranquility, the way Mother Nature sees it. It’s one of the things she can count on, the way she can always count on the squeaky creak of the third step in the Burrow’s staircase that no one’s ever bothered to fix, even though all it would take is a spare dozen seconds and a simple wave of the wand. It is—at the very least, and perhaps at most, too—reassuring.

“If you wanted,” he adds in a rush, his hand loose again, seeming worried by her silence.

“It might be really difficult,” she says.

“It might be really easy,” he replies, and she wonders if they’d swapped roles without her noticing, because generally this is the type of encouragement _he_ needs, never her. But then, he adds a questioning, slightly apprehensive, “Right…?”

She smiles again, except this time she lets him see, and she almost rolls her eyes because, yes, everything is different, but some things will never change, like Harry’s wobbly quasi-confident uneasiness, and more importantly, her fondness for his wobbly quasi-confident uneasiness. Her fingers lace tightly with his because he should know by now that the latter is as everlasting as rain and sunshine. She hits him gently on the arm.

“Come off it, Harry,” she says, finally looking at him. Her head tilts back slightly and she leans up towards him, smiling as he leans down to close the space between them. “It’s only natural.”

\--


End file.
